たっきの 笑い 啼き

The skin of the earth

NANCY WOODの　ＭＡＮＹ　ＷＩＮＴＥＲＳから

The skin of the earth
covers its imperfections
Just as my face conceals
my vast uncertainty.
In the dry cracks of the earth
I find that it has bled
Just as my spirit has bled
from the injuries of man.
The earth has healed itself
through time moving across
its tortured face of skin.
But what shall heal me except
the sun which makes cracks in my face
so that I can come together with my land.

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When the hand of winter gives up its grip to the sun

NANCY WOODのMANY WINTERWSから

When the hand of winter gives up its grip to the sun
And the river's hard ice becomes the tongue to spring
I must go into the earth itself
To know the source from which I came.
Where there is a history of leaves
I lie face daown upon the land.
I smell the rich wet earth
Trembling to allow the birth
Of what is innocent and green.
My fingers touch the yielding earth
Knowing that it contains
All previous births and deaths.
I listen to a cry of whispers
Concerning the awakening earth
In possesseion of itself.
With a branch between my teeth
I feel the growth of trees
Flowing with life born of ancient death.
I cover myself with earth
So that I may know wehile still alive
How sweet is the season of my time.

The land here is beautiful

NANCY WOODのMANY WINTERSより

The land here is peaceful.
It is bathed in golden light which smoothes out
The edges of harshness so that everything is right.
With the sun always in our eyes we have a lazy vision which
Finds fault only on cloudy days.
Even in winter the land is soothing.
It rises and falls so gently that
Our eyes grow heavy following it to the horizon.
Here and there the sleeping trees reach out to the sky.
Here and there are our fields and horses, sleeping, sleeping.
Is it any wonder that we love the land the way we do?
We dance to the beat of it and perceive its rhythm as our own.

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With these hands I have held

NANCY WOODのMANY WINTERSより

With these hands I have held
a bird with a broken wing.
With these hands I have touched
my children in the sun.
With these hands I have made
a house of living earth.
With these hands I have worked
a field of growing corn.
With these hands I have learned to kill
As much as I have learned to live.
These hands are the tools of my spirit.
These hands are the warriors of my anger.
These hands are the limitations of my self.
These hands grow old and feel
unfamiliar walls
As they reach out to find
the world I used to know.

Now this is what we believe.

NANCY WOODの　MANY WINTERSより

Now this is what we believe.
The mother of us all is earth.
The Father is the sun.
The Grandfather is the Creator
Who bathed us with his mind
And gave life to all things.
The Brother is the beasts and trees.
The Sister is that with wings.
We are the Children of Earth
And do it no harm in any way.
Nor do we offend the sun
By not greeting it at dawn.
We praise our Grandfather for his creation.
We share the same breath together
The beasts, the trees, the birds, the man.